


Reunion

by orphan_account



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Bubble Bath, F/F, F/M, Forgiveness, Friendship/Love, Lesbian Sex, Married Sex, Panty Kink, Tribadism, ménage à trois
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 05:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20558873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ... what if the person who had once been your adversary becomes your friend?  Your lover?  A tale of reunion and forgiveness ...





	1. Wake-Up

She assumed it was morning. She was, after all, waking up.

Juliana registered the slamming of metal doors, and the hardness of the surface she was lying on… none of which helped the crick in her neck, or the pounding in her head.

She sat up, and opened her eyes, warily. Her breath came fast; she recognized this cell. She knew she was being sent here, and that she would be ok – she could travel back out if she had to. But still, she looked at the door and remembered…

She heard voices in the hall outside; some were German. But there was an American one too… oh god, she recognized that voice too well. It could be amused, it could be seductive, and it could be harsh as hell. Now, it was harsh, and raised in reprimand. Juliana crawled under the cot. Though she knew that did no good…

The harsh voices continued down the corridor, but just as they faded out and she thought she was safe, she heard the rasp of the key in the lock. She cowered more deeply under the cot. The door opened, and she saw the harsh black boots of an SS man, wheeling in a rubbish bin.

The door slammed, and there was a brief silence before the man started to whistle. Then he stopped. “I have to say, Chickie, you won’t fool anyone by cowering under a cot. Least of all, Smith.”

Juliana crawled out, hardly believing her ears. “Hawthorne!” It was Hawthorne Abendsen, badly disguised. They hugged.

“No time, no time; hop in the bin. You’re going out with the trash…” Abendsen laughed at his own joke. “Do you know what it is you’re doing here on this trip?”

“I need to meet with Helen, reassure her; connect with the girls, if I can.”

“What else?”

There was a long pause. Juliana lifted her face. “I need to forgive. _Him_. I need to forgive him…” she said; her voice was dropping to a whisper.

“And you have to make him _feel_ forgiven. Whatever it takes.”

“Does… does he even feel remorse?”

Abendsen patted her hand. “Oh, girlie, you’ve known a lot of men, but you need to learn a lot more about this one…. Smith is a nervous, growling bundle of never-ending remorse, all wrapped up in swaths of self-righteousness. _I_ can’t reach him; _Helen_ can’t reach him;_ you_ can’t reach him; but maybe together, _we all_ can reach him.”

Juliana swallowed. She did forgive him, really, down in her heart. She knew his choice to shoot her had come from fear, ignorance, and an illusion of control. _Samsara_, her Aikido master would have told her. But there was still something that made her breath halt, when she thought about him.

“He’s dangerous. Everything you said, that’s why he’s dangerous.”

Abendsen nodded. “And necessary. He will _always_ be dangerous. Like dynamite. But it’s how you use the dynamite…”

Juliana looked at Abendsen. “Necessary? Why? Is _he_ in the films, too?”

Abendsen looked stern. “None of your business! You have a job to do, Chickie, now do it! Out to the curb with you!”

And with that, Abendsen wrapped a garbage bag around her and wheeled her out, unceremoniously dumping the bin (and her) on the street.


	2. Found

Juliana rolled down the sidewalk in the garbage bag and peeked out. She was near an alley, so she rolled in there. It was harrying to be a self-propelled trash bundle, but if there was a saving grace to the mindset of most of the Reich’s citizens, it was their blindness to anything they had not been dog-whistled to pay attention to.

After a due pause she came out of the bag and went out the other side of the alley onto another street. Juliana realized she was in downtown Manhattan - and was completely discombobulated. The only other time she had been here knowingly was when Lucy Collins had taken her shopping. She remembered Smith’s vicious accusation of her possible role in Lucy’s tragedy.

She stumbled along, getting her feet wet in her terrible shoes. Her dress was as grey as the prison and she wore a too-big sweater, and was starving. She reached in the sweater pocket… and was glad to find that she had money! Someone had left a bundle of Marks in it. She saw a mortar-and-pestle outside a store that said “Schneider’s.” All right, if nothing else, she could have an ice-cream soda, and maybe an aspirin; maybe even eat something from the lunch counter.

The lunch counter was toward the back, and Juliana sat down and ordered a coffee. She noticed a handsome middle-aged lady with red hair waiting nervously at the prescription counter. Juliana thought she looked familiar, and wished the lady would turn her way. The pharmacist came out, speaking to the customer in a loud voice.

“Now, then, this_ massager_ has a very per-ti-cular application! You must use it in the right way – no funny stuff!”

“Yes, yes, I see,” said the lady, and at her voice Juliana turned her head. The pharmacist was waving a cylindrical object with a rounded tip. Juliana thought with some irony that _massager_ was hardly the word they used for it in the Pacific States. The Pons had faults, but at least they were candid on certain issues.

“Now, it’s best to use this on the neck or the shoulders to relieve tension. You can also use it on the feet and calves. Des-PITE the nasty, semi-medical Semite rumors you hear on the street, do NOT use it anywhere else! It is bound to be o-ver-stimu-la-ting!…”

“Yes, I know.” said the woman, looking like she would sink through the floor. Juliana couldn’t help looking again. It was Helen. Juliana was confused; did Helen know she, Juliana, was supposed to be a prisoner? And hadn’t Liam told her that Helen had gone out West?

“Well, obey the per-scription, and pretty soon yer neuralgia will be cleared up in no time! Good day!”

Juliana peered into her coffee cup; Helen had to walk past the counter to get out…

In just a moment the seat next to her was taken, and a gloved hand lay gently on her arm. “Julia? Julia Mills?”

Juliana looked up. “Why, Helen… it’s… good to see you…” Juliana was sincere. After all, she was here for Helen, too. But this was awkward...

“Well, of all the places to meet! But, Julia dear… are you all right? We haven’t seen you in forever, though I supposed that was due to… all the changes in our residence and all. Are you doing well? Are you still in the dormitories?”

“I’m all right, but no, I’m not staying at the dormitories, thanks. I am going to need a place to board tonight. If you know of some rooms…”

“Nonsense! Come back to the apartment, Julia. We have a spare room - and if you don’t mind me saying, you look like you could use a hot bath.”

“Oh, Helen! I couldn’t intrude and all….”

“I insist.” Juliana trembled; she knew she’d have to face John sometime, but like this?

But Helen would not brook argument. “Look, the girls are at a sleepover at Staten Island, and John… well, he works so late these days, and half the time even when he’s at home he’s in the office. You could use a soft bed and a good meal… and I think we could both use the company.”

Juliana set down her coffee. “Well. It’s unexpected, but… I’d love to. Thank you.”


	3. A Light Supper

Julia was awed by the apartment. The building was certainly impressive enough when they had walked up to it, but she was completely unprepared for the interior. It was utterly sleek: marble floors, luxurious modern furniture, although the old-fashioned sofa – what was it, Biedermeier? – made for a strange, schizoid contrast with the hard surfaces. And windows… lots of windows.

“You sure have a view from up here!” Juliana started to walk toward the windows, then backed away. Twin fears of heights and of being watched crept in.

Helen was right behind her, and before Juliana noticed she had slipped off Juliana’s sweater as if she were helping a friend with her mink. “See and be seen…” A twinge of discomfort crossed Helen’s own face as she surveyed the vista.

“You don’t like it.”

Helen smoothed her dress in an age-old feminine gesture, “Don’t be silly. We are very lucky to live here. And it’s nice to be downtown for the shops and restaurants. I just… miss the old neighborhood at times. That’s normal, isn’t it?” Helen’s smile was a little too brave.

“Of course it is.” Juliana’s voice was soft. “Nostalgia is normal. Places and things that had meaning… I can understand why you would miss it.”

Helen took a step toward Juliana.

“I think you do. You know it was the last home we had with…” Helen checked her words and the two clasped hands. They found their foreheads resting against each other, and there was a silence.

Helen broke away first, quickly walking across the room and hanging the sweater in the hall. “You must come and see the kitchen! I’ll make you a sandwich with this great rye bread from this charming little bakery I found!”

Juliana followed, in a swelter of emotions. The kitchen was big and impressive, but very sleek and hard. It did not look like the place where Helen would happily make pot roast and sauerkraut. And she had not been prepared for even the suggestion of Thomas.

Above all, her stomach was doing flip-flops from being near Helen. Helen, the society queen bee, smelling of talc, fine perfume, and a bit of Scotch. Strange; they hadn’t even liked each other when Juliana had been in New York before. But Helen had changed; she was warm and genuine, and it was the happiest surprise that they were happy to just be together. And Juliana’s heart went out to Helen, and she found herself wanting to comfort her. Which was natural, but… why the sudden urge to touch her?

“I think we have some soup in the cupboard. I haven’t eaten much myself today.”

“Won’t we spoil our dinner?”

Helen heated some tomato soup. “This is our supper. John called; he expects to work late. I sent Bridget home – Bridget’s our maid; yes, we have a maid now – so I guess John will eat downtown. We must catch as catch can.”

“Does he work late a lot?”

“Most evenings. Oh, it isn’t his fault, the Reich keeps him so busy, Julia…”

“Juliana,” she interrupted. “My real name is Juliana Crain.”

Helen stopped, her blue eyes getting big. _That_ Juliana, she thought to herself? The Traveler? She had learned about her when she became Resistance. Ok, Helen thought, take some deep breaths...

She decided to chance a provocative remark. “Well, the fact is, Himmler has him on a short leash.”

“I gather he pulls it on John – often,” said Juliana bluntly.

“Especially since the assassination attempt.” Helen sighed. “Please understand. John wants to be with me. He’s afraid every minute of something happening to me and the girls. But he’s in a dangerous spot; and I’m… sort of a liability, because I broke down after Thomas’s death and ran away. But I couldn’t live without him, or he without me…”

Juliana put a hand on the table. Helen took it, holding it as if they had held hands all their life. Juliana was fascinated, as always, by the contrast between Helen’s utilitarian short nails, and that dragon-lady red lacquer…

“Himmler is evil. He enjoys…” Helen wrinkled her nose, “that man _enjoys_ controlling John, tethering him tighter and tighter to the Reich. And himself.”

Juliana traced her soupspoon around the inside of the bowl. “Neither of you can ever get away, can you?”

“No. You don’t retire from the Reich. You only die in its service. Even Hitler. Died under the eagle-eye of the Reich, not as a private man. Hitler himself!” Helen’s lip trembled.

Juliana looked around. “So, this is your only haven?”

“Yes. It’s a fishbowl, but we can draw the curtains and it is not bugged. John checks that regularly. If we can get rid of the maid and not have her spying on us, then John and the girls and I can have at least a few precious hours where we are not seen or heard… “

“Oh, Helen!” On an impulse, Juliana slipped her hand on the side of Helen’s face.

Helen leaned in. After a few seconds, Juliana felt lips against her palm…


	4. After Supper

Juliana watched, fascinated. Helen’s lips brushed lightly, yet warmly, against her palm, her fingertips.

“Oh!” Those emotions were surging again.

Helen stopped kissing, and merely rested her face against Juliana’s hand. “I’m… I meant no offense…”

“Oh, I’m not offended! Not at all, Helen; I was just … surprised.”

Helen sat up. “How awkward of me. But it’s so nice to be _understood_.”

“Well, of course it is. There’s so little love and understanding these days.”

Helen looked up and smiled. They pulled apart, after a bit of a silence.

“I’ll do the dishes…” offered Juliana.

“We’ll both do those dishes, and then, that hot bath I promised you earlier.”

“That will be nice.” Juliana looked at Helen; her smile was genuinely warm.

As they did the dishes, they chatted freely in a way they hadn’t before. Juliana talked about growing up in San Francisco, and the Japanese-American culture.

“There were Japanese influences in Honolulu, too,” said Helen. “And Chinese; and of course, the native Hawaiian. You know we lived there briefly, when John was stationed in the Pacific.”

“I wondered. I remember one time when I visited you at the old house, you were telling the girls about hibiscus-behind-the-ear as a sign of marital status. I wondered where you learned that…”

Helen looked wistful as she put the dishes away. “It seems like a hundred years ago – Honolulu, I mean. We liked it there. Who knows, if the war had turned out differently…”

Juliana cocked her head. It was strange to think of the Smiths, upholders of the Reich and its racial policies, being happy in multiethnic Hawaii.

“I remember your visit, though,” said Helen. She wrapped her arms around Juliana. “That seems a long time ago, too. Water under the bridge.”

It surprised her, the way Helen enfolded her; so sudden, yet so natural. Juliana returned the embrace. They breathed together - shallow, yet soft.

“You seem more peaceful, now… despite the hard times.”

“Well, I’ve let go of some bad ideas – and a couple of demons as well.” Helen laughed lightly, giving a slight squeeze. “Of course, John and I had a lot to work out – still do. I won’t say it’s easy, but… we find our way. Somehow.”

“I’m glad.” She found herself stroking her friend’s cheek. She was happy for them, really she was. Yet there was odd conflict, this… _tingling_, deep inside.

“Of course, there are new old friends, too,” said Helen. She tightened her grip around Juliana’s waist. “You’re going to stay in New York?”

“Yes. For a while, at least. ” Augh, this urge… to touch her again.

“Good. I’d like to get to know you better.” Helen licked her lips nervously. “_Really_ want to know you… without suspicions, without barriers.”

Juliana sighed with deep relief. Somehow her friend had intuited the wish of their hearts. “Yes, Helen. I want that too.”

They kissed.


	5. Readying The Bath

We’re kissing, we’re actually kissing, thought Juliana. She couldn’t even remember who’d started it. Her friend’s lips were plush, warm, and amazingly giving. Before her mouth had been harsh, all red lipstick and anger. But Helen was more natural now; gentler. Juliana tasted the mintiness of her gloss or lipbalm or whatever it was, and she kissed that luscious mouth hungrily…

Helen gave back. Juliana had bent her head back slightly, but she was used to that. Her tongue thrust upwards, slowly and teasingly. Juliana responded in kind; their lips moved languidly…

They kissed that way for a long time, ‘til they had to stop for air; then they held each other tightly.

After a long pause, Helen spoke. “I did promise you a hot bath…”

“Yes.”

Helen took her by the hand, walking her to the master suite.

Everything in this apartment was grand… overly so. The bedroom was overwhelming, but Juliana noticed that, unlike the rest of the apartment, this room had wallpaper. Flowers. She reached out to trace one.

Helen noticed. “When we moved here these walls were like the rest of the apartment, but I wanted florals, in my boudoir at least, so John insisted. We got a very odd look from the Reich decorator.”

“But it’s your home. Your intimate space,” Juliana blushed for a moment, on saying ‘intimate.’

Helen kissed her lightly. “Yes, it is – now.” Her cheeks got pink. “John and I are working on that.”

They walked in the bathroom, and Helen turned on the taps. The bathroom was all mirrors and tan marble, very luxurious – almost intimidating.

Then, the room filled with scent – roses, sweet flowers, and something else Juliana couldn’t place. Heavy. _Seductive_.

“I hope you like this,” said Helen. “It’s a new bubble bath, supposed to smell of ‘roses, jasmine, and patchouli.’ The name is certainly flattering.” Juliana looked; the label said _Hélène de Troie_. “From Berlin.”

“Very romantic.”

“Yes. A beautiful scent for a beautiful woman…” she purred, laying a soft kiss on her cheek, stroking her hair.

She stepped back, leaving Juliana to wonder… “Be right back, with robes…”

Juliana sat on the edge of the tub, closing her eyes. That tingle was back. And a growing warmth, right between her legs. She took a couple of breaths.

In a moment she heard humming; Helen was back. She hung a couple of robes on some hooks. “You can wear this one, when you get out of the tub…” it was cocoa-colored satin with wide lace trim “… and I’ll change into this one now…” She signified a red number.

It was unbelievable, watching Helen undress. Oh, god, her body! So buxom, so shapely. Every now and then there was some item - a hook-and-eye that stuck; a back zipper – and Helen would enlist her help. Which Juliana did, planting a kiss or two on the skin under the fastening. Helen put on the robe – cherry chiffon with half-sleeves, and see-through. Everything Helen had was on display through rosy veils…

The tub was full, and she walked over to turn off the taps.

“Well… you have to take your clothes off and get in.”

“Yes, of course,” said Juliana, shyly. She shimmied of her clothes in no time and ducked in under the bubbles. She was panting hard, she didn’t have Helen’s sensual form, she didn’t want her to see…


	6. Scars

“Well, that was quick!” said Helen, taken somewhat aback. Juliana reached forward, grabbing her ankles. The water was a little too warm, but she didn’t mind.

Helen saw her back and let out a low whistle. “Is this from an accident?”

“Yes… a bus accident. In San Francisco. It’s not important…”

Juliana’s back was corrugated by scars; most of them small and thin, but they were everywhere. Helen ran her fingers over the scars detachedly. Every once in a while she lingered on a larger scar. It wasn’t erotic, by itself; it felt almost clinical. But Juliana was remembering another hand. The hand of a young man who had touched those scars in awe - before they made love. She shivered.

“They do go down a ways, don’t they?” asked Helen, sliding her hand underwater to the lumbar. Juliana nodded. Helen nuzzled her face against Juliana’s back. “You can’t have kids, can you, dear?” Juliana shook her head. “I’m surprised they let you in the Reich.”

“Your husband did that.” Her voice echoed sharply off the marble.

Helen moved in front of Juliana. Despite her friend’s hunched-over position, she saw a spot, odd and discolored, between the shoulder and upper chest. She gently pushed Juliana back.

“Aaaggh. Juliana!” She reached for the newer scar. It was healed, but an angry reddish-pink… and less neatly mended than those on the back.

“Your husband did that, too!” She spat out the words.

Helen knelt down.

“Oh! Juliana!… they told me you’d been in his custody! They told me you’d been shot by a dirty Nazi, just before ‘traveling’. But they didn’t tell me that… that _he_...” She placed a hand on the edge of the tub.

Juliana was feeling very cold-hearted now, though she knew this was unfair to Helen. She forced herself to take her friend’s fingers in her own. Her mind was in a whirl. Helen mentioned being told things. But by whom? Nazis, some of Smith’s henchmen? But surely Nazis wouldn’t go around calling each other “dirty” Nazi. And what else, god help us, did the Nazis know about traveling?

“He… John… tried to tell me. He wakes up at night, paces the floor. He said to me, “I shot her, I shot Julia. How could I shoot her? Why did I shoot her? I’m not myself. I’ll never forgive myself.’”

Helen took a ragged breath. “ I thought they were just nightmares… I didn’t believe him!”

Juliana looked up at her. “He feels… guilt?” He words were barely a whisper.

“Every day. Sometimes he drinks and paces. Sometimes he just cries in my arms…”

She could hardly believe her ears. It was so hard to imagine John feeling guilty. Or was it? She remembered reproaching him for Thomas’s death; her harsh and hurtful words. He acted vicious, untouchable; but she knew that he felt it. That she’d stung him, whipping up anger – and remorse.

Well, I came here to forgive, thought Juliana. May as well start now. She exhaled, slowly, letting go of resentment and hate.

She reached out and slowly took both of Helen’s hands. No better way to end the hate cycle than to give relief to the woman John loved. The woman she was growing to love, too…

“Helen, I don’t hate John. I believe him when he said he was not himself. Or maybe… confused about his true self. I forgive him. From the bottom of my heart.”

Helen kissed her hands, and looked at her, eyes full of gratitude. “Oh! Thank you. He isn’t a monster, like people think. He’s… just so… _lost_!”

“Well… aren’t we all - lost, in our way?.”

“_You’re_ not. You are Juliana the Traveler.”

“Please… don’t call me that.” She scrunched down back in the tub. “Who says so, anyway?”

“Us. The Resistance.”

Juliana looked at her. What? Was this true? Or was this a trap? How could Helen have become…?

Helen continued. “I told you that I ran away and came back.” Juliana nodded. “ I was so full of confusion and fear. But I made it out West, to the edges of the Neutral Zone. I had to get as far away from _him_ as I could… to survive, I thought. Himmler was after me – still is – and I was sure that John would be his pawn.”

“But on the edge between Reich and Zone… I met people. People with a vision. Something larger than themselves to live for.”

Juliana’s eyes widened. “The Resistance?” Helen nodded. “You joined them?!”

Helen nodded emphatically. “Yes. Yes! And then, I came back to John.”

Juliana squeezed Helen’s hands tightly. This was incredible. “Oh… my goodness. You brave woman!”

“Oh, no, I’m not that brave… I told you, I couldn’t live without him. And I couldn’t deny him the girls.”

“But you’re in such danger! If John found out…”

“John knows.”

Juliana gasped. The words were an earthquake. Everything rocked on its base.

Helen explained, “You see, being placed as I am, I’m valuable - the mole at the top of the Reich. So they let me go back…”

“But, being who _I_ am, I couldn’t _not_ tell John. He’s everything. If he had become Himmler’s pawn, then I needed to find out, let him give me up or turn me in, and have done with it. I wouldn’t have wanted to live in that case, anyway…”

“What… what did John say?”

“Nothing, at first! He was in shock, but he looked… relieved. ”

“Then he came to me, and kissed me. He told me what I think I knew deep down in my heart - that he would always love me, protect me, and cherish me, no matter what. And how he loved our girls, would protect them, and that together we would try to… undo some of the awful damage we’ve done them.”

Helen choked on the last words, sobbing. Juliana let the tears come as long as they needed to.

At last, Helen wiped her tears.

“Well, that’s good. But I’m sure he can’t tell you anything…”

“John’s always been closed-mouthed; I told the Resistance leaders that, and I wondered that they sent me back. But I took the chance all the same.”

Helen got off her knees and sat back on the edge of the tub. As she sat, her cherry-red robe came open; Juliana couldn’t help being dazzled by that creamy-white skin...

Helen didn’t seem conscious of her deshabille. She looked in the distance with a sudden, mysterious smile. “We made love afterward… if you can believe it. The sweetest love we’ve made for some time. It hasn’t always come easily this last year or so.”

“No… I can imagine.” Just the mention of Helen making love made Juliana flush with warmth…

“And, surprisingly, every once in a while, he mentions things to me. Things about his work. More than he ever has before.”

“Really?”

“Nothing you’d call useful; at least I don’t think Gary or Liam would. but suddenly, I have a sense of his world. The threats and such…”

Helen sat there for a moment, lost in thought. Juliana wondered. In this dangerous place, the very pinnacle of danger… were things changing?

Helen shook herself from reverie. She shrugged off her robe and let her hair down. There she stood, naked in her cream-and-copper glory.

Finally she stepped in. “Time to get you washed in this bathtub. Scrub-a-dub-dub…” she said cheerfully. She pulled Juliana close and kissed her.

Ahhh, she was a good kisser. Juliana yielded to Helen’s lips completely.

Whatever else might or might not be shifting in their world, things were about to change wonderfully… here and now.


	7. The Bath

Helen had taken a washcloth and was washing Juliana’s face and arms. “When you first took of your clothes, you ducked in so fast. Were you embarrassed?”

“Yes, actually. My legs are so spindly… and the scars… I feel like an ugly duckling….”

“Juliana, you’re a beautiful woman.” Helen lifted her torso up a bit from the bathwater. “I wish I was slender like you. Not to mention…” she put her mouth to the buds of her breasts, “So youthful and rosy. Not possible for me anymore.”

“I love your breasts.” She suddenly felt shy about it, but she turned Helen to the side to kiss them. They were so warm and generous, and Juliana put her mouth over Helen’s tawny nipple, sucking gleefully.

The two of them enjoyed each other for some time, and as they fondled and sucked each other, they had a good chance to enjoy the beautiful contrast between them. Juliana noticed that in the weightlessness of the scented water their legs and pubic hair entwined. Helen stroked her hip, and Juliana could tell she too was enjoying the brown hair and the red hair brushing together lightly.

Slowly, Helen pulled away. “Really, I will wash you, as promised.” She went to the task, not too hurriedly, but not loathe to the task, either. They were silent, but eyed each other lustfully. Helen’s blue eyes were so seductive.

Finally Helen pulled the bath plug, and made Juliana stand up. Helen gasped softly, seeing her statuesque friend standing gleaming wet.

They got out of the tub and dried one another. Ahh, thought Juliana, the roughness of the towel, after the luxury of the bath, made such a piquant contrast.

They put on their robes and embraced. Again, those wonderful contrasts – brown and red; satin and chiffon; firm and plush. Just the sheer sensuality of it all made one’s heads spin.

“I… I think it’s time I took you to bed,” said Helen.

“Oh, yes, please… lay me down and love me. Let me make love to you, too.”


	8. Encounter

Helen pulled back the satin coverlet of the bed. It was such a strange, luxurious, feminine room, thought Juliana. It was a contrast to the rest of the apartment. And such a contrast to John, all angles and black uniforms. Unbidden, Juliana realized that part of her was attracted to his commandeering masculinity. But what did John think of all this; did he just dismiss it as his wife’s silly frou-frou? Or was he, like Juliana, compelled, even seduced, by the almost courtesan-like grandeur of Helen and her boudoir?

At any rate, she, Juliana, was seduced by it all, and she sank into the bed thankfully… and even more thankfully into Helen’s arms.

They fondled each other’s breasts, picking up where they left off in the tub. Juliana could not get enough of Helen, sucking her hungrily. And Helen loved it, pulling her closer and leaning over a bit, so that her breasts were even larger. She knew what she was about, too, interspersing her kisses with the gentlest of bites, drawing gasps from Juliana…

As in the tub, their legs intertwined. But with different sensations against the smooth sheets than had been in the lavishly scented water. The friction was greater, driving them slowly into a frenzy. Their pubic mounds ground together, and Juliana felt breathless. She gripped Helen’s buttocks hard, just as she felt her lover’s hand between her legs.

“Ohhh, you’re so warm, my darling… open up, love…”

“I… I’ve never done this before…, “ Juliana opened her legs wider, starting to tentatively feel Helen.

“Really, not just a little bit of exploration with a best girlfriend? At a sleepover, or maybe camping out?”

“Well, we didn’t know much about camping in San Francisco. The Pons probably would have disapproved…”

Helen guided Juliana’s hand, then kissed her fervently. “Whereas here in the Reich, camping is encouraged. Not for this ‘deviant behavior’ of course; they give all sorts of health and fitness reasons. “ The pad of her fingers teased a circle around Juliana’s clit, and she leaned in. “Mmmm, aren’t you feeling a bit _healthier_ now, dear?”

“Ummmmm, yes…” Helen’s touch was perfect, and she tried to duplicate the motions on Helen’s own body. As she grew bolder about touching her, she soon found out what brought out Helen’s responses.

Maybe it was the satin sheets, or maybe the surprising relaxation of the act, but Juliana felt herself yielding. Their cunts were closer now, and Helen was on top. She had maneuvered herself so that their clits were touching very lightly, and Juliana was panting. It was a tease, and she wanted more.

Helen spread Juliana’s labia, and then her own, putting them together so they were perfectly melded. Juliana wanted so much to hold her closer, but Helen kept a little upright, a little separate. Oh, she was a Queen Bee, for real, thought Juliana. But the pressure – oh, god! By being upright, Helen controlled the pressure as she ground, and she dug at Juliana with an appetite.

“Oh, I need this, I need this …” said Helen. Juliana was going crazy. “You need it too…” Juliana nodded, breathlessly whispering her “yes”.

And then Juliana was rendered speechless; she was coming. Helen knew it, and ground harder. Oh, their clits, their clits were kissing… never, with any man, had Juliana felt this. And the wetness… was it wanton of her to love that wetness? Juliana was beyond caring if it was. She saw that Helen was excited too, and she thrust upwards, which excited both of them even more. Juliana grabbed her lover by the waist as she flailed under her. At last, she could not stand it, and came and came, moaning. Exhausted, she cried out, sinking deeper into the bed. Helen’s mouth fell open into an _O_ of pleasure, bucking once more with a final cry. Then, she sunk down beside Juliana, taking her in her arms.


	9. Back At HQ

The GNR of America HQ had many features, among them a 24-hr. kitchen. It served as cafeteria for the staff; it fed the guards and the prisoners; and it came in handy for people like John who got bogged down with long hours due to bureaucratic machinery.

John had his aide call down, and now his dinner sat before him – wiener schnitzel, a couple of hard rolls, a warm potato salad, and an overly large supply of sweet & sour red cabbage. You could get anything on the menu, so long as it was from the cuisines of the German-Speaking Peoples. John picked at it, and decided that, of the prisoners who died in custody, half died from torture, the other half from their guts bursting with cabbage.

He pushed the plate away, letting the aide know that someone needed to pick up the remains. What he would have given to have been home with Helen. If he had been able to come home on time, she would have sent away the stupid maid, and made one of their favorites… chicken pot pie, perhaps, or maybe clam chowder and a green salad.

Their domestic life was so sweet now; weekends and early evenings, when he got them, were what he lived for. Since she’d gone West and returned , they’d worked through their differences and their marriage was strong. Stronger than ever, even, in almost all aspects.

_Almost._

John opened a desk drawer. It had a locked compartment and he took his desk key and unlocked it, removing the contents. He laid the bits of shocking pink satin on his lap, smiling at how forbidden they looked here in his office - it gave him a frisson. Helen certainly had been surprised when she found him riffling through her dresser - then had graciously worn the items while they made out like teenagers. He held the panties to his face, breathing in her essence, remembering. He started to reach for himself…

There was a faint squeak in the background, like a cart with a bad wheel. John hurriedly shoved Helen’s lingerie back in its secret box, and put on a stern face. It would hardly do for the Reichsmarschall of the Greater Nazi Reich in America to be seen getting in a lather over his wife’s unmentionables.

The expected knock came. “Enter,” Smith commanded.


	10. Chafafa (On The Side)

The door opened and the cart wobbled and squeaked in. The stocky private’s hat was jammed on his head, John noticed. He went back to his paper work.

The private was humming something bouncy. He gathered the dishes and sang… “_I want the Frim Fram Sauce, with the Ausen Fay…”_ He paused, searching for the next line.

_“…with Chafafa on the side…_” John obligingly finished. He tossed some papers aside and folded his hands on the desk and looked sternly at the man. “Well, Abendsen. You _are_ aware that jazz was outlawed in 1949?”

Abendsen took his hat off, returning the baleful glare. “Then why is the Reichsmarschall singing race music? In GNR headquarters?” He burst into foolish laughter.

John’s mouth twitched. “Sit down. You’ve travelled back here, for some reason… at great risk. So, tell me, what is it you want?”

Abendsen steepled his fingers. “I’m not the only traveler you know. You can try and imprison us… shoot and kill us… but you know deep down you won’t stop us.”

A gut punch. It was a gut punch, that tossaway line about shooting. Smith barely registered anything else Abendsen said.

“I _didn’t_ kill Juliana,” he replied in a subsonic growl.

“What’s that? My ears are old, Captain Smith, and don’t catch enemy communications as well as they used to…”

John glared.

“No, sir, you’re right, you didn’t kill her. Ohh, I know, you’re going to tell me you winged her, were just trying to stop her from leaving. But your nerves failed, didn’t they? Got her subclavically. Fortunately…” - here Hawthorne’s eyes twinkled - “a kind man and his son in _die Nebenwelt_ found her and took her to a hospital. Ye-es, she grew close to that man. And his son.”

John got up from his desk, pacing. “Yes, well, that’s good. Good for her.”

Abendsen got up, picked up the dishes, and put them on the rickety cart. He stabbed at the schnitzel. “ _‘I don’t want pork chops and bacon/That won't awaken/My appetite inside…’_ Speaking of appetite, why aren’t you at home enjoying Helen’s cooking?”

John’s mouth turned down. “She doesn’t always cook. We have a maid now. Perks of the job. Which reminds me, as part of my job, I really should arrest you.”

“For singing _verboten_ jazz? Come on, you know the tune. And I bet there’s things in your house that Himmler likes even less than Nat King Cole records.”

John balled his fists. “What do you know about what’s in my house?”

Abendsen looked at him, his face almost tender. “Do it, John. Call your goons up if it makes you feel better. If that proves you’re the right man for the Reich.”

A loud puff of breath exploded from John’s mouth. “We both know what you’ll do. Why do you think I haven’t pressed a button to summon security?”

Abendsen nodded. “Because, Lieutenant… you don’t really want to,” he whispered.

They were silent awhile, then Hawthorne continued at normal volume. “Well, if I were you, John, I’d toodle on home. All work and no play… and you’re not doing anyone any good at this late hour.” He wheeled the cart out, dishes rattling. _“A fella really got to eat/And a fella should eat right/Five will get you te-en…”_ Abendsen left the room, going mum as he headed into the hall.

John smirked, despite himself. _Sotto voce_ he sang _“I'm gonna feed myself right tonight.”_


End file.
